


Never Fear, Brooklyn's Here

by aswonder



Series: Newsies One-Shots [1]
Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Canon Era, M/M, Puppies, Sentence Prompts, dumb newsboys, racetrack higgins - Freeform, spot conlon - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-07 06:39:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14075136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aswonder/pseuds/aswonder
Summary: This one came from the prompt "Where did all these puppies come from?". It's also kind of my excuse to write something about puppies for National Puppy Day (shh I know it's 30 min late I'm trying though)





	Never Fear, Brooklyn's Here

Looking back, Spot honestly hadn't expected this. As he had approached the Brooklyn lodging house, and noticed the abnormal quiet, he was concerned. The last time the boys had been nearly silent, they had been trying to hide the news that Manhattan's newsies were starting a strike. As he got closer, he realized that all he could hear were quiet laughter, and a few squeaking sounds. What? Bracing for the worst, he was somewhat relieved that the first few newsboys he saw looked happy instead of nervous, a few of the younger boys the source of the giggling. It took him a second to actually process what he was seeing, and when he did- "Where the hell did all these puppies come from?"

Every head shot up in the room, and quickly, fingers pointed to a corner at the back of the room. There, a tall, lanky teenager sat against the wall with at least three puppies in his lap, another fluffy black pup held against his chest. His shirt sleeves were pushed up to past his elbows, and Spot noticed that he had what looked like a cigar hanging from the corner of his mouth. The kid wore a boyish grin, but when he realized that he had been pointed out, his face changed. He looked exactly like he should: guilty, and unsure how much trouble he was about to be in. He recognized that the teen wasn't one of his own newsies at the same time a small yellow blob stumbled into his leg, trying to climb over his foot and out the open doorway he stood in. Spot quickly scooped the thing up, a thin yellow mutt, by the looks of it. Plans foiled, it resorted to trying to climb his chest and lick his chin, letting out a few whining sounds that he swore sounded frustrated. The leader of Brooklyn's newsies had to force a frown onto his face as he shifted the pup in his arms. Making sure it couldn’t climb his chest anymore, he locked eyes with the person everyone said had brought the creatures to Brooklyn’s lodging house.

"Whoever yous is, upstairs, now." Brooklyn’s leader demanded with a glare, starting to pick his way to the back of the room. As he walked, he saw the newsies scrambling to gather stray pups into their arms. About halfway across, he realized there were a lot of puppies, much more than he'd originally thought. 

"How many dogs is in here?" he asked the quiet room. 

"Twenty? Maybe?" someone tentatively called out, and Spot let out an annoyed groan. He finally reached the back of the room, looking back to see the kid, who actually seemed to be closer to his own age, gathering all four puppies into his arms. He looked ridiculous, but he finally managed it, joining Spot at the staircase. The shorter of the two lead the way to a room on the next floor, his own personal room. While it wasn’t a huge room, the bedroom had enough space for a single chair and a twin sized bed shoved into the corner. Now alone with the teen, Spot realized that he actually recognized him. "Hey, ain't yous Racetrack Higgins?" he questioned, brow furrowing as he remembered him. A Manhattan newsie, Race had come to sell at Sheepshead, and he was only of the very few that had gotten the famous Spot Conlon to let someone trespass on his turf without consequences. Not only that, though, the teen had also managed to keep the spot he’d been found at.

Not that anyone could ever know, but his decision might have been helped by the fact that the kid was easy on the eyes. He had a bit of a boyish charm, too, despite the fact that he tried his best to act like one of the older Manhattan newsies. Last he had heard, the taller boy was really close to Jack, second or third in command. He pushed his wayward thoughts aside as Race dropped himself into the chair against the wall, slouching to let the puppies lay comfortably in his lap.

"Explain, kid." Spot ordered, sitting on the edge of his own bed with the baby animal still cradled in his arms. A quick glance down told him that the yellow puppy was barely awake, and it was easily settling back down against his chest, going back to sleep passing out. A snort caught his attention, and he looked back to the other boy. Racetrack pulled his signature cigar out of his mouth, his lips settling into a frown.

"Would ya stop callin’ me that? I ain't no ‘kid’, Conlon. I's seventeen.” he complained, and Spot could only think that his pout made him look adorable. “I's brought all these puppies here ‘cause I figured youse’d want to deal with it. I was sellin' at Sheepshead and I saws this guy with a big box of these here pups, but I knew there was a different box of twenty last week! I saws him tryin' to sell them to tha bidders, and these ones looked real sick. So... I's stole them?" He seemed to realize then that he might be punished for this theft, and flinched slightly. If possible, he seemed to slouch even farther down into his seat.

He seemed to pause to think, and his mouth opened to continue his defense. However, at roughly the same time he leaned forward, they both heard the soft sounds from Race's lap. They simultaneously looked down to see the fluffy black puppy gnawing on the cigar in the Manhattan newsies' hand. 

"Ah shit, no! Let go of it ya brat!" he shouted, sticking a finger in the animal's mouth and prying it out. The look of disappointment on his face as he lifted the slobbered on cigar to eye level made the stone cold Brooklyn crack a smile, and the whimper of "That was my last Corona..." made Spot let out a genuine laugh. Race shot him an indignant look, and he tried to smother his laughter into the puppy asleep on his chest, pressing his face into its soft fur. Once he finally pushed the laughter down, he was amused to see that Race still wore a frown, but his lips twitched, giving his true feelings away. 

"Is I gonna be punished then, Conlon?" Racetrack asked, putting the dry end of the rolled tobacco into his mouth, raising an eyebrow at him. Spot took a moment to "think" as he rubbed his thumb over the face of his own puppy, avoiding eye contact. He had already made up his mind, of course: Race had grabbed a bunch of puppies that had seemed to be sick, and rescued them. Even if he did technically steal them, he did it because he wanted to fix an injustice. And, looking down at the tiny dog in his arms, he could tell it was indeed sick: it was wheezing. Spot finally met the bright blue eyes across from him, alight with what he knew was ever present mischief. 

"Yous ain't in trouble, Higgins, on two conditions. You and your boys try an' find homes for the rest of these pups, and I gets ta keep this one." he told the Manhattan boy, a smile creeping back onto his face as he gestured with the runt in his arms. 

Racetrack laughed at this, a full body laugh. Spot was entranced, damn him. "A'ight Sean, but yous is gonna have come with me, and a few of your boys, I's can't carry all nineteen of ‘em ta Manhattan. And I'll need help talkin' Jackie into lettin' me keep one myself, and to house the others." The cocky attitude, now that he knew he wasn’t getting yelled at, was back in full force. He gracefully moved to stand, the four puppies scooped back into his arms, three barely stirring. Of course, though, the black fluffy puppy was still awake, actively pawing at Race's chin, trying to grab the Corona again. Biting down a little tighter on the cigar, the Manhattan boy let out an almost childlike giggle. The sound was music to the Brooklyn leader's ears. Before he could stop himself, Spot grabbed Race's arm, making him pause.

"One more condition, Race. Yous and your pup hafta come visit Brooklyn and come see the pup's litta mate every once an' awhile, yeah?" he asked, putting on his most charming smile. The taller boy gave a quick but nervous laugh, talking around his cigar. 

"Is yous comin' onto me, Sean Conlon?" he countered forcing a smirk onto on his face. 

"And what if I is?" the other challenged, feeling himself stiffen a little bit. If he had misinterpreted this interaction, he was screwed. Not just his role as the leader of Brooklyn’s newsies, but his life was at risk as well. Though there were a few boys in both boroughs that were probably chasing tail that wasn’t always the opposite gender, most looked the other way. That wouldn’t happen in this case, especially if the boy in front of him told everyone about him. Racetrack paused for a dragging second, seeming to consider the question. He finally gave a small shrug, clearly trying not to jostle the sleeping puppies. 

"Then I's might have to think about comin' over here a lot more." he replied, cheekily. Before Spot could react, the taller boy darted forward to press a peck to his cheek. He then rushed back down the stairs, laughing as he went. Damn Manhattan, for bringing a guy like Race to his territory. He was, without a doubt, screwed.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if characters seem a little ooc! I kinda want to end each of these with some form of a kiss, and besides that, my experience with newsboys (and their accents yikes) comes from watching Newsies the musical more times than I can count. Also, for anyone wondering, I picture Tommy Braco and Ben Tyler Cook (*heart eyes*) as Race and Spot. Basically, the Newsies Live cast for everyone.


End file.
